Needle and Thread
by AuthoressSama
Summary: A frightening fairy tale of a witch keeps young Alfred awake at night. Oneshot


**Disclaimer: I do not own Axis Powers Hetalia.**

**Summary: **A frightening fairy tale of a witch keeps young Alfred awake at night.

* * *

><p>Needle and Thread<p>

The colony of six gripped his bed sheets as he stared, petrified at his goose feathered pillow. He remembered the fairy tale Arthur had told him that morning. At first, the young boy attempted to rationalize as Arthur had taught him to. There were no such things as ghosts and they would all be outside anyway. Alfred made sure to chase them out of the house earlier that day like the hero he was.

A creak caused Alfred to sit up in a matter of seconds. He turned and faced his soft pillow head on. Pure fear coursed through his veins as he imagined what the witch in the pillow looked like and how much her needle would hurt. It was not Alfred's fault he was a loud child! A lot of children are loud. Why was the witch not at their houses? Why did she have to be here?

Alfred leaned in closer to the pillow. The moonlight streaming in from the window flowed over his bed, causing the rest of the room to be dark from the bed's white shine. He touched the fabric of the pillow softly. He was not always pushing things over and breaking them. A lot of children were curious. A lot of children break things. Alfred did not need anyone to restrain his fingers.

When a sharp prick entered Alfred's soft thumb, he let out a ripping shriek that echoed through the large mansion. He did a backwards dash off the end of his bed. Alfred stood and saw a small tear open through the pillow. A creaky groan erupted from the bed. Alfred panted; sweat poured down his face as his eyelids twitched. A warmth spread across Alfred's lower regions when he looked down to see a hand coming out from the bottom of his bed near a lone needle with a bobbin; thread trailing off it.

Tears formed in Alfred's eyes as he sprinted at his door. A loud smack resounded as his head smashed against his wooden bedroom door. He screamed and shrieked through huffing breath as he fiddled with the door handle. Once he shoved the door of its hinges, Alfred ran as fast as he could towards Arthur's room. His trail of screams never ceased as he clawed and pounded on Arthur's door, yelling his name along with "The witch is going to get me" and "The needle, the needle".

He stopped his clawing and pounding when a cold draft passed him. Alfred slowly looked down the hall where he had knocked his door down. Fabric from the bedroom curtains flowed over the bed. His head fell to the floor to see the shine of a sewing needle by his foot. Alfred hyperventilated before shooting through Arthur's bedroom door and yanking Arthur out of his bed.

Arthur let out a loud yelp of pain as his head collided with the wooden floor. He sat up as Alfred blubbered and coughed out gibberish. Before he could decide to spank his ward for being so loud in the middle of the night, Arthur's expression softened at the teary eyed child.

Alfred buried his head in Arthur's chest and crawled into his lap, begging for protection against the witch that lives in naughty children's pillows and sews their mouths and hands together.

Arthur let out a heavy sigh; his fairy tale that he told Alfred that morning was only supposed to force Alfred to quiet down and to leave Arthur's needles alone. It backfired tremendously, Arthur noted. Judging from this reaction, it would be days – maybe even a week – before Alfred would be brave enough to sleep in his own room by himself.

The older nation stopped his cooing to feel the wetness of the child's night clothes. A pang of guilt hit Arthur; Alfred had been scared enough to wet himself. Realizing that he would only have a few hours left to sleep if he started putting Alfred back to bed immediately, Arthur let out a short lived, frustrated groan and asked Alfred what was so scary.

With tears dripping down his cheeks, the child whined about the needles strewn about the floor and the sharpness inside his pillow. He whined about the hand under his bed and about the cold breeze that touched him before he ran into Arthur's room. Most of all, Alfred told Arthur how there was a short tear in his pillow and how the witch was trying to escape out to get him.

Arthur spoke about how Alfred needed to be a big boy and be brave as he changed the child into dry, new night clothes. The nation took the time to hold Alfred's hand as he explained every last detail of why everything was so scary. Arthur's sewing basket had a hole in it which was where the needles and bobbin had fallen through. The hand under the bed was a mere doll and the breeze resulted from the window of Alfred's room. It only seemed like a cold gust of air because Alfred's night clothes were wet.

Alfred, with much courage, lifted his pillow off his bed and held it up to Arthur to inspect. Arthur smiled and pulled a mischievous pixie from out of the pillow and showed the little brat to Alfred. The pixie held a needle and seemed to be the age of a mere child as well. Arthur took the needle from her before scolding her for frightening Alfred so badly and then sent her on her way.

Arthur picked up his young colony and walked back into his own room, closing the damaged door behind him. The two crawled into bed and nuzzled against each other; moving into a comfortable position. They fell right to sleep; Alfred held protectively in Arthur's gentle arms.

"_Next time, my child,"_ An old, creaky voice cackled under her breath, _"next time, I will use my bone needle to sew your loud lips shut,"_ The voice dissipated up through the fireplace to prey on other naughty children of the American colonies.


End file.
